


The Days That Never Came

by BlackUnicorn



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesiac Steve Rogers, Angry Steve Rogers, BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Returns, Bucky Never Gets His Memories Back, De-Serumed Steve Rogers, Developing Relationship, Domestic, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Memory Loss, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Alternating, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Self-Acceptance, Stark Tower, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-01 10:14:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17242412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackUnicorn/pseuds/BlackUnicorn
Summary: They told him his name was Steve Rogers.They told him he was Captain America.They told him they were his friends.When Steve is hit by a spell during a fight, he loses the Serum and his memories and has to navigate through a completely unfamiliar world filled with magic and aliens and people that treat him like someone he's not. And then there's Bucky.Bucky calls him Stevie.Bucky treats him like a person.Bucky is his friend.





	1. Chapter 1

He watched through the sight of his rifle as Captain America charged through the creatures, kicking and punching, his shield flying through the air. It was beautiful to watch. Powerful. Graceful.

The Soldier pulled the trigger once more and another creature dropped right before the Captain’s feet. The blond did not look around, did not even seem surprised, simply kept fighting while the Soldier picked off the enemies one by one. They were a good team – they had been a good team. Once upon a time. The Soldier was sure of it. It wasn’t like he remembered, but there was something…a feeling, deep inside.

Trust. Loyalty. Adoration…

The need to _protect_ – so protect he did.

Six months now, had he been watching the other man, following him, making sure that he didn’t do anything stupid even though he didn’t know why. And it didn’t matter. As long as Captain America was okay, the Solider was okay as well.

Aim. Shoot. Repeat.

Aim. Shoot. Repeat.

Aim. Shoot. Repeat.

There was some kind of wizard this time; a man who had conjured these creatures that looked like dogs with a scaled hide and long, sharp teeth, like four-legged snakes, snarling and hissing, and there were many of them. The wizard himself was standing on top of the building opposite to the Soldier’s, protected by his magic.

The Soldier did not like magic.  

Aim. Shoot. Repeat.

Aim. Shoot. Repeat.

Aim. Shoot. Repeat.

The Captain had fought his way through to the building and the Soldier could see his companions not far behind. The Black Widow was there, fighting side by side with the Scarlet Witch. The Falcon and Iron Man were flying through the streets, keeping the creatures within the evacuated parameters. The Soldier also knew that Hawkeye was nearby, even though he could not see him. The Soldier did not trust the Captain’s companions but he tolerated them because they helped him keep the Captain safe, because the Captain trusted them and for now that was good enough for the Soldier.

Aim. Shoot. Repeat.

Aim. Shoot. Repeat.

Aim. Shoot. Repeat.

The Soldier watched through the scope of his rifle as Captain America entered the roof of the building, walking straight towards the wizard, his shield raised, and the Soldier wanted to scream at him to _get the fuck away from him you idiot! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Wait for your fucking backup!_ But even if he did, the Captain would not hear him, he was too far away, so the Soldier did the only thing he could do. He ran.

Closer, just a little bit closer.

The Captain was now standing right in front of the wizard, his stance relaxed but at the same time prepared for a fight.

Just a little bit closer.

The wizard was laughing and the Soldier could see as the Captain shifted his weight, getting ready for the attack, adjusting the grip on his shield, and he was almost there, almost –

The Captain threw his shield.

The wizard’s hands lit up with a bright, green light.

The shield hit the protection surrounding the wizard.

The bright, green light hit the Captain.

The wizard was gone.

The Captain hit the ground.

“Stevie?”

* * *

 

The first thing he heard was a beeping sound close to his ear, hushed voices, and what he thought to be his own wheezing breath. He felt warm, comfortable, even though his back hurt and his lungs seemed too tight. He blinked lazily and starred up at…something…something…?

“Stevie?” a voice called out and he turned his head to look at a man who was sitting next to his bed, his left side, the man was big, tall and muscly, with long, dark hair and a metal arm. He was wearing black clothes that looked kind of weird and were covered in dirt and there was sadness in his eyes, concern, fear. Confusion.

“Cap!” another voice cried out and before he could look where it came from, the room filled with people, too many people. A woman with black hair pushing the others back, she smiled kindly and looked like a doctor – he did not know how he knew that.

“It’s good to see you awake,” she said and pulled out a small instrument from her pocket, shining light straight into his eyes, “Can you please tell me your name?” she asked and – he froze.

_My name?_ he wanted to ask – the man to his left had called him Stevie but…was that his name?

“I – I –” he stammered, frowning, trying to _think_ , trying to _remember_ , “I don’t remember. Why don’t I remember?” He should know this, he was sure of it, but he _didn’t_ and all these people were looking at him and the doctor’s smile slowly faded, turning into a frown and it was getting harder and harder to breathe and – “Please stay calm,” the doctor said, “It’s quite alright. Memory loss is to be expected after the hit you took. Can you tell me what you do remember?”

“I – I don’t – I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“It’s okay.”

“No – I – what –“

“Stevie.” The man to his left grabbed his hand, gently, as if he was afraid to hurt him, “You gotta stay calm Stevie, don’t give yourself an asthma attack.”

_Asthma?_

He stared at the man with wide eyes, looking for words but there were none.

“It’s gonna be okay.” The conviction in the man’s voice was almost enough to convince him as well. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Wow. This is great, now we don’t have one, but two amnesic grandpas,” the same man who had called him ‘Cap’ remarked drily.

“Tony,” another man with dirty blonde hair cut in.

“Your name is Steve Rogers. You’re in a hospital in New York City, and you’re safe,” the doctor told him and he – _Steve Rogers?_ – nodded slowly. The name meant nothing to him. “It is best if you get some more rest, don’t hesitate to call me if you need something.” She waited until he had nodded again before turning towards the group of people, “Please leave, he needs peace and quiet.”

“I’m not leaving him,” the man with the metal arm snapped and the doctor winced slightly, looking at him warily.

“Please, sir, only the next of kin –“

“I am _not_ leaving him,” the man repeated, a sharp edge to his tone and Steve Rogers noticed the changed atmosphere in the room – tense, dangerous. The group of people all shifted slightly, hands moving towards belts as they fixed their eyes on the man, the doctor stepping backwards, behind the group, afraid.

“He can stay,” Steve Rogers found himself saying. He didn’t know why but this man made him feel safe. Protected.

“Steve,” a woman with red hair spoke up, “You don’t have to do that.”

“He can stay.”

“Fair enough,” the man named Tony muttered and left the room without another word.

“We’ll be right outside if you need anything,” a tall man with dark skin said, smiling encouragingly before glaring at the man with the metal arm, “We’re your friends, Steve, and we’ll figure this out.”

And then they were alone.

The man was still holding Steve Rogers’ hand and Steve Rogers found that he liked the contact, the warmth of the skin, the feeling of the calloused palm against his. Steve Rogers turned his head to look at the man who was looking right back at him, his face unreadable but his eyes – his eyes were telling stories, except they seemed to be in a language Steve Rogers didn’t speak.

“Are you my friend too?” he asked.

The man nodded, slowly, as if he was unsure, “Yes,” he answered quietly, “I’m your friend.”

“What’s your name?”

The man stared at him, stared and stared but said nothing but Steve Rogers waited, patient, content, and then –

“You can call me Bucky.”

* * *

 

The Soldier ( _James? Bucky?_ ) had watched the Captain fall to the ground, his body glowing with the strange green light and then he had changed and suddenly it had been Stevie – his Stevie – lying there, small and fragile, his eyes closed, his body drowning in the uniform, and…Bucky’s…heart had stopped.

He remembered falling to his knees next to his Stevie.

He remembered the others, the Avengers, storming onto the roof, guns aimed at his head.

He remembered clinging to his Stevie’s body, not letting him go, not letting anyone near him.

_Protect._

He knew he had hurt people. The Captain’s friends, the hospital staff. They had wanted him to leave, had tried to make him, but he hadn’t – he couldn’t – he had to stay, had to keep his Stevie safe, had to make sure his Stevie was okay.

Now, Stevie was lying in the hospital bed, not asleep but not quite awake either and…Bucky…couldn’t do anything but hold his hand and look at Stevie’s face – the strong line of his jaw, the slightly crooked nose, the deep blue eyes, framed by long, dark eyelashes. He was beautiful.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember,” Stevie muttered, not looking at…Bucky…but keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

“Don’t be.” _I don’t remember either_. He didn’t say it, couldn’t say it, but it was true even though that…something…he was feeling was getting stronger and stronger the longer he was sitting at Stevie’s side.

Suddenly, Stevie turned his head, looking right at…Bucky…and there was a smile on his face, bright and pure. “I don’t remember you,” he said, eyes flickering to where their hands were entwined on the bedsheets, “But I’m glad you’re here.”

_Me too_ , he thought, _me too_.


	2. Chapter 2

“Do we have any idea how this could have happened? And by how I mean what? And by what I mean –“

“Yes, Stark, I think we get it.”

Tony blinked at Sam who was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed and his face set into a firm scowl.

“My point is,” Tony continued, “We need to find out what kind of spell that bastard used so we can reverse it.”

“And how are you gonna do that?” Sam shot back, “The wizard’s gone. Thor is somewhere on Asgard. Dr. Banner is still MIA.”

“Yes, thank you Wilson, for that remarkable reminder, I had almost forgotten that –”

“Boys,” Natasha cut in, “Now is not the time. We need to help Steve and we need to help him soon.”

She was right of course. Under any other circumstances, Tony would have had a ball meeting mini-Cap, but as it was – with their leader completely without any memories…that was just asking for trouble.

“Alright, so what now? We need to find the wizard…that’d be the easiest way to reverse this. Natasha, you, Barton and Wilson, try to find out what you can. Maybe get in contact with Thor and his what’s-her-face girlfriend. In the meantime, doctor Cho, Wanda and I will try to get into Cap’s head – oh, and we need to do something about Robocop.”

To say that Tony had been shocked to see the Winter Soldier hovering over Rogers’ body would be an understatement. They had all sort of suspected that it was the Captain’s old pal who had helped during their missions but actually seeing him there? Something completely different. And well…Tony would never ever admit this out loud but…he was kind of, very, extremely intimidated by the guy. The way he had stared at them, cold-eyed and murder-y… _creepy, much…?_ Also, he hadn’t left Rogers’ side once since that whole thing had gone south and, somehow, Tony didn’t think he would. Not voluntarily anyway.

“Well,” Sam spoke up from behind Tony’s back, “As far as plans go, that’s a horrible one but I also don’t have a better idea so I guess we’ll just roll with it.”

One by one, the others left the lab and Tony got is mind back on the matter at hand.

_Science._

* * *

 

Sam felt a bit lost. Okay, that was a lie – he felt completely out of his fucking depth. All this superhero business…it wasn’t for him. Not really. He was Steve’s friend and that was the only reason he had joined and now…now Steve was five feet something and ninety pounds soaking wet without any recollection of who he or anyone else was and his long-lost childhood buddy was playing overprotective guard dog. It was all very dramatic.

Sam watched through the window of the hospital room as Steve sat in his bed and talked to Barnes – actually talked to him and…well…there was something to be said about the way Barnes looked so…different…different from the last time Sam had seen him. This was no mindless assassin ready to carry out orders, this was a man fighting for his life back – Sam was able to be at least professional enough to see that and it was also clear that Steve was probably safest at Barnes’ side at the moment. The other man had made it clear that he would not let anyone or anything harm Steve in this state.

As if Barnes had felt Sam’s eyes on him, he raised his head from where he had been staring at Steve’s face and glared at Sam, his entire posture immediately changing from placative and encouraging and _soft_ , to defensive, almost predatory, protective, possessive.

Steve, too, must have noticed because he was turning his head now, his eyes finding Sam’s and he frowned. It hurt more than Sam had expected…being looked at by his friend as if he was a complete stranger. He also thought he might start to understand how Steve must have felt when they had found Barnes.

“He’ll be alright.” Sam jumped at the voice. Natasha was standing right next to him and he kind of hated that he was surrounded by people who could just sneak up on him like that but then again, Natasha was his friend too.

“I know.” And he did. “It’s just hard…seeing him like this.”

“Yes it is,” Natasha agreed, “It’s weird. We all knew he used to be smaller but I don’t think any of us ever stopped to actually think about it. This is what Steve was like for the better half of his life. This should be more familiar to him than the enhanced body and…it’s certainly more familiar to Barnes.”

“You think that’s why he showed himself? Because he recognized Steve where he hadn’t before?”

“It would make sense,” the redhead said, “Barnes has a lot of memories connected to this Steve. More than to Captain America.”

“You say that as if their two separate people.”

“I’m beginning to think they are.”

Sam followed Natasha’s line of sight, back into the room where the two men had started talking again and Steve…Steve was laughing…laughing in a way Sam had never seen him laugh before. Free and unguarded.

It was a beautiful sight and it hurt.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve Rogers and the man called Bucky had been talking for hours now and as it turned out…there were things he remembered. He knew the names of objects, knew how the TV worked, he knew how to write and how to draw, he could speak five languages and could swear in seven. He also knew that he could trust Bucky.

“Why are you sad?” he had asked at some point.

“You got hurt,” Bucky had answered, “You got hurt and I couldn’t stop it.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t. But I couldn’t stop it.”

Bucky was blunt. He spoke the truth even if the truth was uncomfortable.

 

_“Do I have a family out there?”_

_“No. They died a long time ago.”_

 

The longer Steve Rogers spoke to Bucky, the more he got the feeling as if Bucky himself was sometimes surprised by the things he said, by the things he did. He said random facts and grew still afterwards, he brushed Steve Rogers’ hair out of his face and quickly drew back his hand as if he’d been burned, he rubbed small circles on Steve Rogers’ back to ease his breathing, he got an extra blanket before Steve Rogers himself even knew he was cold, he told Steve Rogers to rest and when he woke up again, Bucky was there, sitting on the chair to Steve Roger’s left. Attentive. Guarding.

“Alright, Cap, time to play,” Tony came barging into the room, followed by the doctor and a young woman with long hair, “For full disclosure, my name is Tony Stark, I own this building and everything in it, this is one the best doctors in the US of A, Helen Cho, and the beautiful lady here is Wanda Maximoff, and we are here to find out how to help you. Capisce?”

Steve Rogers blinked several times at Tony, unsure of what to think. Of Tony. Of this whole situation. His eyes wandered almost involuntarily towards Bucky who was still seated at his side and Bucky was glaring at Tony as if his very existence was a personal insult to the brunet. Tony, on his part, didn’t wait for Steve Rogers to answer as he pointedly ignored Bucky even though Steve Rogers could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his attention seemed to be focused on every single movement Bucky made, as if he was afraid and maybe he was. Maybe Steve Rogers should be afraid too because Bucky was dangerous, he had said so himself, but he just _wasn’t_.

“Perfect, now let’s start, shall we?” Tony continued and held the door open, “Follow me, let your bodyguard here.”

Before Steve Rogers could get a word in, Bucky had stood up and rounded the bed, his eyes murderous, growling deep in his throat, as he walked towards Tony, forcing the smaller men to back away against the wall. Only then did Bucky step back, visibly satisfied with the result and he made way for Steve to leave the room, building a barrier between him and Tony.

* * *

 

Talking to Stevie was…weird. It was like entering a dream, reliving things that had never actually happened, and…Bucky…wasn’t sure how to navigate in this state of strange familiarity. He didn’t remember but he knew this Stevie. Knew his shape and his voice and the sound of his breath, he knew that he was deaf in his right ear and couldn’t tell the difference between red and green, he knew the rhythm of his heartbeat and the smell of his hair, and it was all too much. It was not enough. It scared him and excited him, it was like a fire lit deep inside him and sooner or later he would burn to ashes, carried away by the mild breeze of New York’s spring. It would be worth it.

Now, Tony Stark…that was another thing...there was something important about him, something Bucky should know but again he didn’t remember.

Stark led them into a laboratory filled with high-tech equipment, things…Bucky…could not identify and it set him on edge, not knowing what some of these things could do, whether they were dangerous, whether they were a threat to Stevie.

A brain scan, a few blood samples, and several questions by the doctor later, Stevie sat cross-legged on a chair while the Scarlet Witch concentrated her magic on him and…Bucky…had to remind himself repeatedly that interfering would only make things worse. These had been the Captain’s friends – they could be Stevie’s friends as well.

With a gasp, Wanda opened her eyes and let her hands fall down to her lap, “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes, “But there’s nothing. Nothing. It’s like –”

“A tabula rasa,” Stark finished her sentence as he re-entered the lab with the doctor, “There’s nothing wrong with your brain. Not physically anyway. You’re fine. Apart from the asthma, the scoliosis, the stomach ulcers, the deuteranopia, the partial deafness and the arrhythmia, high blood pressure and angina and the fact the serum is completely gone –” he took a deep breath, “You’re fine.” Stark was breathing harder than usually and…Bucky…could see the slight tremor in his hands, the way his forehead was damp with sweat, the way he swallowed too often and his eyes kept jumping back and forth…he was nervous. Scared. The realisation hit him that Stark was genuinely concerned for Stevie and Stevie – Stevie blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Staring at Stark with an unreadable expression, except…except it wasn’t unreadable he noticed. His face appeared mostly blank but it was in the set of his jaw and the hardness in his eyes that…Bucky…knew Stevie was deeply uncomfortable, overwhelmed by the information, and getting ready for a fight.

This was a problem, and Stevie met all problems head first, with his fists raised.

He did not know how he knew this.

* * *

 

Steve Rogers felt oddly defensive. He didn’t know why. Tony had merely stated the medical facts – facts which Steve Rogers didn’t even completely understand, but he’d gotten the gist of it – and yet…he was _angry_. It surged through his veins, made his heart beat faster, it filled out his lungs and his mind, making him focused. It felt easy, being angry, familiar in a way that he was not used to. There hadn’t been much that had felt familiar so far. Drawing had come natural to him, talking to Bucky was easier than breathing, and being angry made him feel strong. Whole. Powerful.

They were in the kitchen, Steve Rogers and Bucky and Tony and everyone else, while Tony updated the others on Steve Rogers’ medical condition. There was pity. So much pity. These strangers that called themselves his friends looked at him as if he was already standing with one leg in his grave, waiting only for his last rites and the final blow. It did nothing to ease his anger, in fact it increased it, multiplied it, made him feel the need to prove himself, to show everyone that they were wrong – he was not weak and he was not broken and he was _not dying,_ _damnit_.

As if he could read his thoughts, Bucky was suddenly standing right behind him, lying a heavy yet gentle hand on his shoulder, looking at him with an intensity that startled Steve Rogers; it was as if Bucky was both trying to calm him down and encourage him. There was exasperation and warning but also pride and fondness. Confusion. As if Bucky himself wasn’t sure of what he was doing. As if he was surprised by his own action. Again.

“Cap –” Steve Rogers was pulled out of his thoughts by the voice, making him frown.

“Steve,” he corrected whoever had spoken, “My name is Steve. Or so I’ve been told. Why don’t you call me by my name? No offence, but it’s wrong to reduce people to their titles. It takes away their personality, their humanity, it turns them into objects rather than people.”

His words were met by silence. Steve Rogers – _no, Steve_ – watched as the people around him blinked, obviously taken aback, he felt the hand on his shoulder tighten his grip and when he looked up into Bucky’s eyes, he saw wonder.

“Right,” Tony said slowly, “Steve. Seeing as we don’t know how to fix this,” he made a vague movement towards Steve, “We should probably fill you in on a few details…”

What followed was a rough explanation of who he was, where he was, what he did and…it wasn’t like he didn’t believe them, just…well, there was something in the back of his mind, screaming and kicking, telling him that something didn’t add up in all this.

_I might have lost my memories, but I’m not stupid._

The way they talked about him – about Captain America – it felt wrong. Dishonest, in a way he couldn’t explain.

 “We’re the Avengers,” the man with dirty blond hair – _Clint_ , his brain supplied – had told him proudly.

“Which means…?”

“Oh, you know, saving the world, fighting aliens, the usual superhero stuff.”

Except he didn’t know. This was all unfamiliar and, honestly, a little strange.

“Anyway,” Tony clapped his hands together, “I got some meds for you, an inhaler, hearings aids, and I’m working on contact lenses for your colour blindness, since we don’t know how long it’ll be until we can fix you.”

“Fix me,” Steve repeated drily. _I’m not broken_ , he wanted to say.

“Yeah, you know, get you all serumed-up again.”

“Right.”

He accepted the things Tony handed him and he was grateful, he was, he just wasn’t sure if he agreed with all this.

“We better go,” Sam spoke up then, “The sooner we find the wizard, the better.”

One by one, they left and it was just him and Bucky again. Bucky who hadn’t said anything yet. Bucky who still had his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked the taller man who looked down at him with a strange expression on his face.

“Yeah.”

* * *

 

During all those months he had watched the Captain, he had never felt like this. He didn’t even know what _this_ was just that it made his stomach churn and his heart skip a beat. Seeing Stevie stand up to these people, these strangers, it did things to him, things he couldn’t explain. There was a warm feeling spreading inside him and the sudden need to wrap Stevie up in his arms and fight off whoever dared come near him. Even more so than before.

_It’s wrong to reduce people to their titles. It takes away their personality, their humanity, it turns them into objects rather than people_

He had never thought about that. He was – had been – the Winter Soldier for so, so long, had been nothing but a title, a machine, a weapon, and he didn’t have any illusions that that was what the others, the Avengers, saw in him. Not a person but an object.

_But I am a person. I am Bucky._

“I want to go outside,” Stevie said.

Bucky looked down at the blond in surprise. “I don’t think they want you to,” he replied.

Stevie grinned mischievously, “Exactly.”

And there it was again…that feeling. That feeling he couldn’t quite name.

“You shouldn’t go alone.”

“I’m not.” Bucky frowned. “You’re coming with me.” And the way Stevie said that, the certainty in his voice because _of course_ he would come with Stevie. “I trust you.”

“Why?” he asked, he couldn’t help it. How could his Stevie, who was so thoroughly _good_ , trust him, a man who had killed so many, caused so much destruction. Stevie frowned. “I don’t know,” he said slowly, “I just do.”

Bucky smiled, the expression felt still strange, like his face didn’t remember it. “I trust you too,” he all but whispered and followed Stevie out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony didn’t know what to do.

Tony really didn’t like not knowing what to do.

There was not a trace of the Serum in Rogers’ blood left. Nothing. Nada. Like it had never even been there in the first place and what if some new evil decided to attack right this second and Rogers was like this? Weak. Vulnerable.

It made Tony extremely uneasy.

And there was the Cap – _Steve. My name is Steve_ – Steve himself. Tony had never seen him like this. So… _angry_. Sure, Steve had always been righteous, that kind of came with the job description, right? _Right_.

But this anger was new.

_Is it, though?_

What did they really know about Steve Rogers from before the Serum? What did they know about the skinny kid from Brooklyn?

Yes, there were books written about Steve but that didn’t mean anything. Tony would know. There were books written about him as well.

And yes, Steve had his own exhibition but…

No. No they didn’t actually know anything.

_Well…shit…_

“FRIDAY, where’s Barnes and Ca – Steve. Where’s Barnes and Steve?”

“Mister Barnes and Mister Rogers have left the building, sir.”

“What?!” Tony screeched, dropping the screwdriver he’d been holding

“They have left the building through the back door, twelve minutes ago, sir.”

“What, and you let them?”

“I had no orders that said otherwise, sir.”

_Oh…right_. Sometimes, Tony forgot that his AI was technically just that. An AI. That did not actually make its own decisions. Not yet, anyway. It was a work in progress.

“Thanks, FRY.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Tony sighed. If Steve was with Barnes, that probably meant he was safe. _Hopefully_. But they also shouldn’t take any risks and _this_ , this was a risk if he had ever seen one, and he couldn’t take it. With another sigh, Tony ordered FRIDAY to call Natasha.

* * *

 

They were in the Quinjet on their way to England when Tony called.

“What?” Natasha greeted the billionaire and they could hear ACDC blaring from the other end of the line.

_We’re gonna make a jaaaaaail break._

“ _Cap and Barnes are gone_ ,” Tony said.

“What?” Natasha asked again, this time more confused than anything else.

“I _said: Cap and Barnes are gone. They left the Tower like fifteen minutes ago_.”

“What, and you let them?” Sam chipped in.

“ _I_ _didn’t. FRIDAY did_.”

“Don’t blame this on your robot, Stark.”

“ _AI, Wilson, It’s an AI_.”

“Whatever.”

“Find them, Stark,” Natasha ordered, “We’re on our way to London to talk to Jane Foster.”

“ _How am I supposed to do that?_ ”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” Sam muttered.

“Just do it, Tony,” Natasha said, “Before someone gets hurt.” The line disconnected.

“You think Barnes might be dangerous?” Sam asked.

“I know he is,” the redhead answered, “But it’s not Barnes I’m worried about.”


	5. Chapter 5

New York was…something.

Steve really didn’t know what he had expected but it certainly wasn’t this. There were people. Hundreds of them, thousands, all walking through the streets, organized, disciplined and peaceful – but at the same time…not?

It was hard to explain and he should probably stop before he gave himself a headache.

Bucky was a good guide. He manoeuvred through the masses like a fish through water, never touching anyone, never drawing attention to them. Steve knew that, by now, someone must have noticed they were gone and was probably looking for them, but he wasn’t worried. He wasn’t a prisoner and he was free to go outside if he wanted and this…this was exciting in a boring kind of way. It was just a city. Probably. Steve didn’t actually have any recollections of other cities. This city. Any city.

There was a building. A tall building. Steve followed Bucky inside and up the stairs, up, up, up, and there were people here too but again no one as much as looked at them as they strode past with intent. A destination ahead.

Then there was a roof, and Steve was speechless. They were far up above the streets, hearing nothing but the wind, looking down, down, down on the city below.

“It’s beautiful,” Steve breathed.

“Yes, it is,” Bucky agreed and lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the roof.

“Thank you.” Steve had joined the brunet, feeling his body heat, their arms touching ever so slightly.

“What for?” Bucky asked.

“For showing me this. For coming with me. For treating me like a person.”

“You are a person.”

“Yes.” Steve nodded. “But the others don’t see that. They don’t see me. They see him, the Captain, but they don’t see me.”

“I always saw you, Stevie.”

Steve could feel that Bucky was looking at him but he didn’t dare turn his head, didn’t dare look back, so instead he leaned into the warmth at his side, into Bucky’s body, firm and comfortable. The arm shifted and came to a rest behind his back, drawing him in, pulling him closer.

“I always saw you, Stevie.”

* * *

 

Bucky sat on the roof on top of the world and for the first time in his life, he was at peace. Up here where nothing quite seemed to matter, where it was just him and Stevie, and for one endless moment it was like nothing had ever changed, like they were back in Brooklyn, young and naïve and dirt poor but content with what they had. It was the shadow of a memory, an echo nearly faded into nothing, but it was something and it was enough.

“We used to do this.” It took Bucky a moment to realise that he had spoken and he wasn’t quite sure yet what he was going to say but he let himself go on, “We used to go up to our roof and sit like this until the sun had gone down. Back then.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was.”

“This is nice too.”

“It is.”

Stevie stirred slightly and Bucky loosened his hold on his small frame, allowing Stevie to turn his body and look up at Bucky.

“What happens if they can’t – if they can’t reverse the spell or whatever this was?”

Bucky frowned and moved so he could look at Stevie.

“What do you want to happen?”

“I don’t know…I don’t even know who I am.”

“You’re Steve Rogers. You’re the biggest punk under the sun. You’re a good man.” Bucky wasn’t sure where those words had come from but he knew they were true.

“And what happens if I don’t want to go back?” Stevie – Steve Rogers – asked, sounding almost timid now.

“It’s your choice, Stevie. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“But they need the Captain, right? They need me to be him.”

“Captain America is a title,” Bucky muttered, his eyes never leaving Steve’s face, “And you’re more than a title. You’re Captain America, but Captain America is not you.”

“You’re saying it can be someone else.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“I don’t even know who I am,” Steve said again and there was a shadow on his face, a sadness in his eyes that pained Bucky to the core.

“Let’s find out,” he suggested and slowly stood up, extending his hand to Steve who took it without question and together they left the roof.

* * *

 

Steve loved art and books and cats. He couldn’t drink coffee without getting a stomach ache and preferred salty to sweet snacks.

Steve liked spending time in the park and got nervous in crowds. He had an interest in architecture and history and politics but he didn’t like numbers or science.

Steve was polite when it was reciprocated and antagonizing when it wasn’t.

Steve had a short temper.

Steve threw a mean right hook.

The last part, he found out the hard way. There was a situation outside a café they had stopped, some guy who had said exceptionally rude things to the waitress and before Steve had any time to process his own actions, he had stood up and stepped in, giving the guy a piece of his mind and a fist in his face when he had started to insult Steve. Then the guy’s friends had shown up Steve and Bucky had run and when he couldn’t run anymore, Bucky had carried him back to the Tower piggy-back style, laughing all the way.

Steve liked the sound of Bucky’s laugh.

They were dirty and sweaty when they got back and Steve felt giddy. Happy.

Steve liked feeling happy.

“Where the hell have you been?”

The silent laugher bubbling in Steve’s chest, filling his mind and lighting his heart, died at the sound of the cold voice coming out of the shadow. Bucky tensed next to him, stepping forward to cover Steve, to protect him, and Steve let him.

He liked Bucky protecting him just as much as he liked protecting Bucky.

“Out,” he answered to the shadow and the shadow huffed.

“Thank you Captain Obvious, that much I figured out for myself,” the shadow, that turned out to be Tony Stark, replied, “You weren’t supposed to leave the Tower. Both of you.”

“Why?” Steve shot back and stepped next to Bucky.

“Because you’re –”

“Because we’re – what – Stark? Amnesic? Unstable? Dangerous? What exactly are we that justifies to treat us like prisoners?”

“You’re supposed to be safe, damnit!” Stark swore and stood up, stepping into the light. The man’s hair was a mess, his eyes were sunken and red, and he looked like he was _thisclose_ to a breakdown. “You’re supposed to be safe,” he repeated, calmer this time, quitter, “You’re supposed to be safe in this Tower where FRIDAY can look after you until we’ve figured out how to fix you.”

“I’m not broken,” Steve argued, the anger back in place, keeping him running like an engine.

“Oh come on! You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Steve mused, “All I know is that you and your friends desperately try to bring back Captain America. The only one here who treats me like an individual person is Bucky.”

Stark blinked, obviously taken aback by the venom in Steve’s voice and the harshness of his words. There was a soft touch to the small of Steve’s back, steady and grounding, and Steve leaned into Bucky’s hand, allowing himself to _breathe_ , to _be_.

“Goodnight, Stark,” he said and walked off towards the elevator, Bucky closely behind, as they left Stark alone in the dimly lit kitchen.

* * *

 

They were on the Captain’s floor and it was the first time Bucky actually saw what it looked like from the inside. The walls were white and bare, safe for an enormous Stars and Stripes flag above the couch and an even bigger TV screen opposite to it. The furniture looked like it had been taken out of a prop set from a movie set in the 1940s, and a bad movie at that. It was all…wrong…Bucky couldn’t even say what it was but the whole room set him on edge. The bedroom wasn’t much better. There was a bed, a closet, and a nightstand. The only personal thing in the room, maybe even the whole floor, were the picture frames next to the bed. Bucky could see himself, the version he used to be, young and handsome and naïve, and he could see a woman, Peggy Carter, beautiful and strong, there were others, the Howling Commandos, a drawing of an older woman with thin hair and Steve’s nose. Steve’s mother, no doubt.

Steve stood in front of the bed, taking in the scene in front of him, the perfectly made bed, the photos. He looked lost. Out of place.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked even though he could guess the answer, it was written all over the blonde’s face, clear as day.

“I – ” Steve struggled, “This isn’t me. I don’t care what the others say but…this isn’t me. Isn’t mine.” He shook his head vehemently, slowly backing away from the bed.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Bucky all but whispered, an idea slowly forming in his head.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Tony Stark was seldom speechless but _Steve Rogers_ …well…let’s just say that Steve Rogers had managed to render Tony speechless twice in one day and the nagging feeling that he, that they, really had no idea who Steve Rogers actually was, did not help.

_I just hope Natasha finds something_ , he thought almost frantically because if they couldn’t find the wizard, if they couldn’t find a way to fix this… _yeah, no…let’s not think about that_.

The truth was that they needed Cap. Tony needed Cap. As much as he had disliked the man in the beginning, the more he understood now why his father had been so obsessed. Captain America – Steve Rogers – was captivating. His moral compass was more accurate than Tony’s could ever be because Steve just _knew_ when something was the right thing and people did good following the blond’s lead. Steve was strong and determined and loyal to a fault and he just gave you that feeling…that feeling that you could trust him, that he would be there for you, no matter what. And Tony needed him.

_He’s right here, though, isn’t he?_

“FRYDAY, honey, do me a favour, show me the footage of Steve’s floor,” Tony said, needing reassurance that small, blond, and angry was doing alright. His AI obeyed and Tony was met by a series of images of the several rooms on Cap’s floor; the hallway, the living room, the kit –

“What the hell?”

Tony blinked. The image before his eyes did not change. He blinked again. There, on the kitchen floor, lay a pile of pillows and blankets and on the pile, he could see two vague shapes of bodies. One small and frail, curled in on himself, the other big and bulky, enclosing the smaller one with strong, muscly arms. It was a weird picture considering who it was that was lying there, peaceful and calm, but even in his sleep Barnes looked terrifying, the way he was shielding Steve with his body, protecting him, keeping him close. And Steve seemed utterly content, happy even, to have the deadliest assassin of the last century spooning him.

_Having his best friend of a lifetime being close_ , a small part in the back of Tony’s mind corrected. He tried to imagine how he would feel if Rhodey died. Or Pepper – _let’s not think about that either_ – point was…even if Steve’s mind didn’t remember, Tony was sure that his body did because this…this looked natural, how they fit together like pieces of a puzzle, two sides of the same coin. He could see it now, how they completed each other. How they needed each other.

* * *

 

They had landed in London about an hour ago. Finding Jane Foster was easy, the astrophysicist and her quirky assistant Darcy Lewis were working on something sience-y that went completely over Sam’s head but that Natasha lit up over like a Christmas tree, the three ladies exchanged a few words about the latest theories on Einstein-Rosen Bridges before turning to the issue at hand…the problem was, Jane had absolutely no idea where Thor was at right now or how to contact him.

“We’re – er – we’re taking kind of a break right now…” Jane confessed, “With everything that’s happened, his brother and mum dead, and the threat to Asgard and all the things down here…we thought it for the best.”

“Wait,” Clint cut in, “Loki is dead?”

“Yeah,” Jane nodded, “Didn’t you know?”

“We had no idea,” the archer answered, his glee over the news hardly contained.

“It was my fault,” Jane explained before diving into a story about something called the Aether and disrupted laws of physic and Dark Elves and then Sam kind of drifted off, only half listening to her story which ended with Loki dying heroically while saving Thor’s life and her and Thor saving the world. “So, no, I can’t tell you where he is. Why do you need him anyway?”

“We have a…situation. Back in New York,” Sam said, earning an unimpressed look from Jane.

“One of the Avengers has been compromised by magic,” Natasha explained, “The one who cast the spell escaped, we need Thor’s help to find him and reverse the spell.”

“I’m sorry I can’t help you,” the physicist apologized, “But I might know who can.”

* * *

 

“Stephen who?” Tony asked. It was the middle of the night, not that that ever made much of a difference for him. He was currently on his sixth cup of coffee while playing with the latest design for his suit.

“ _Strange_ ,” Natasha repeated, “ _Doctor Stephen Strange_.”

“That’s a…strange name.” Tony could practically hear the collected eyeroll on the other end of the line. “And what exactly can he do?”

“ _Magic_ ,” Clint said, “ _Jane says that he’s a ‘Master of the Mystic Arts’ or some shit like that_.”

“Huh…and where is that doctor supposed to be?”

“ _New York_.”

* * *

 

“New York,” Clint answered Stark’s question, “What about Cap and Barnes?”

“ _They’re sleeping on the kitchen floor_.”

“What?”

“ _I don’t know, they came back a few hours ago, went to Steve’s floor and now they sleeping on a makeshift bed of pillows and blankets_.”

“Huh.”

“They used to do that when they were kids,” Sam recalled, “Steve told me a few things while we were looking for Barnes, said whenever they had sleepovers, they’d put the pillows on the floor and sleep there and after Steve’s ma died, he stayed with Bucky’s family for a few weeks.”

“So, you think he remembered?” Natasha asked.

“ _Which one?_ ” Tony cut in.

“Does it matter?”

_I suppose it doesn’t_ , Sam thought before shrugging, “I’m not sure,” he said, “They trust each other and Steve is still Steve, whether he remembers or not and…maybe we should just trust him?”

“No offence,” Clint started, “But I don’t trust Steve’s judgement when it comes to his old war buddy.”

“Steve is compromised,” Natasha added, “He has been ever since he found out wo the Winter Soldier is.” There was no judgement in her voice; she was simply stating the facts as they were and Sam had to agree. Steve’s priorities had changed the second he had seen Barnes’ face in D.C. and _what if it was Riley?_ Now there was a thought Sam didn’t like to pursue but then again, he didn’t need to, he knew exactly what he’d do if it had been Riley – so, yeah, Sam got it, he really did.

_They’d burn the world down for each other…even now when they don’t remember why…_


	7. Chapter 7

When Steve woke up, he felt comfortable. Warm and safe. A strong arm was firmly secured around his waist. A metal arm.

“Buck?” Steve muttered, his mind still hazy from sleep.

“Right here,” the brunet’s deep voice grumbled into his ear, sending shivers down Steve’s spine, “How are you feeling?”

Steve wriggled around in Bucky’s hold, finding himself mere inches away from the other man’s face. “I’m okay,” he answered.

It was true. He _was_ okay. His muscles felt sore and his back ached and his breathing wheezed ever so slightly but he was okay.

“Good morning, sirs,” the bodiless voice of FRIDAY sounded from the ceiling, “Mister Stark would like you to know that there are fitting clothes for Mister Rogers, waiting outside the apartment and asks if you want to join him for breakfast.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he liked FRIDAY. The idea of…something…watching him at all times, recording his every move and word…it felt strange. He and Bucky exchanged a look and a shrug before Steve answered, “Sure, tell Stark we’ll be there.”

The clothes waiting for him did indeed fit. They seemed brand new and as much as Steve would have liked to hate them, he didn’t. They were nice. _Stark_ was nice for doing it, for giving him these.

Bucky was still in yesterday’s clothes, the weirdly looking tac gear with hundreds of hidden pockets and weapons, but he didn’t seem to mind so Steve decided to not say anything about it.

They made their way to the communal kitchen – the very same where Steve had snapped at Tony yesterday, twice – and found the billionaire sitting at the table, a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Ah!” he exclaimed when he saw Steve and Bucky enter, “Splendid! Marvellous! So good to see you at this fine morning. Did you sleep well? Any sudden memory spurts? Growth spurts? No? Shame. Have some eggs.”

Steve also wasn’t sure if he liked Tony. The man was…weird. Not that Steve had much to compare him with but something told him that most people didn’t behave like that. Brash. Crass. Insensitive. On the other hand, Tony _had_ gotten him new clothes that fitted his small frame, and he _was_ trying to help him…even if Steve wasn’t entirely sure if he even wanted that help.

“Morning, Stark,” he greeted the older man, not actually reacting to any of his words.

Bucky remained silent, on guard. Steve had only known him for about a day but he felt like he _knew him_. Knew what it meant when his shoulders tensed up and his fingers twitched and his eyes became cold and hard.

_He’s protecting me…_

* * *

 

Bucky was surprised that he had actually gotten some sleep. Not much, but some. Having Steve pressed against him, hearing his heart beat and his lungs draw in one breath after another, had calmed him, relaxed him, quieted the noise in his head.

Now, in the kitchen with Tony Stark – _Codename: Iron Man. Thread level: high_ – and Steve, he had to make sure he kept his focus again. He knew Tony Stark wouldn’t hurt Steve, probably wouldn’t hurt him, but that was not enough. It was not nearly enough.

Bucky walked over to the kitchen counter, one eye never leaving Stark who always was watching him right back, and examined the coffee. He knew he liked coffee. He didn’t know if it was safe to drink this one though.

“It’s not poisoned, you know,” Stark said suddenly, probably guessing the reason for Bucky’s hesitation.

Not replying to the man’s words, Bucky opened one of the cupboards and found a variety of teas and picked the lemon and ginger one. Steve couldn’t drink coffee. He poured hot water into a mug, added a tea bag and set the mug down in front of Stark.

“Drink,” he demanded.

Stark blinked rapidly, looking confused, annoyed, and amused, all at the same time but he did raise the tea to his lips and made a show out of taking a gulp before setting the mug back down, not once breaking eye contact as he swallowed.

Satisfied, Bucky gave the tea to Steve before pouring coffee into Stark’s mug and once again demanding him to drink. Stark did. Only then did Bucky fill a mug of his own and sat down next to Steve, his back to the wall, the room in front of him.

“So…” Stark broke the silence after a minute or two, his eyes jumping from Bucky to Steve, back to Bucky. He was tense. “We might have a lead on how to fix you, Ca – Steve,” he said. Steve looked up at Stark, his face carefully blank but Bucky could see the frown threatening to break through. Instead of answering, the blond simply nodded curtly. “The team’s bringing it in today. Him. The lead. It’s a him. He’s a him. Some guy. Strange,” Stark rambled on, “He could help you.” Steve nodded again. “Right…”

They fell back into silence. It was uncomfortable and awkward, filled with tension and unasked questions, not that Bucky was bothered by that, but Stark obviously was.

“Right,” the billionaire said again, “Well, this was nice, I’m going back to my workshop now.”

And then he was gone, and Steve and Bucky were alone.

“Bucky?” Steve said after a while, his hands were clasped around the mug and his eyes downcast.

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me about him? Me? Can you tell me about Captain America?”

Bucky considered the blond for a moment, taking in his face, his body, the way his shoulders were pulled up.

“I don’t remember,” he finally answered and at that, Steve looked up, “I know you,” Bucky went on, “But I don’t remember.”

“Why not?”

“Something happened to me. A long time ago. They made me forget.”

Steve nodded as if that made sense, as if he understood, and maybe it did, maybe he did.

“Would you want them back?” he asked.

Bucky opened his mouth to say _yes, of course I do_ , but what came out was a soft, “No.”

“Why not?” Steve asked again. He didn’t seem surprised, just curious.

“Because I’m not that person anymore,” Bucky answered, his eyes wandering over to the wall. He couldn’t look at Steve. Not for this.

“Do you miss it?”

“How do I miss something I don’t remember?”

Steve remained silent because they both knew that there was no answer to that question.

* * *

 

“How do I miss something I don’t remember?”

_How, indeed…_

Steve wasn’t surprised that Bucky didn’t remember. It made sense. The way Bucky seemed surprised by his own words, the way Bucky way careful and hesitant and quiet, the way Bucky looked at him…like he was a miracle…

What did surprise Steve, at least a bit, was how little he cared. He didn’t need Buck to remember because Bucky was his friend and he trusted him, they trusted each other.

“I don’t think I want them back,” Steve admitted in a low whisper, “My memories.” He cast a careful glance at Bucky, trying to see how the brunet would react to an admission like that and Bucky…Bucky simply returned his gaze, steadily and patiently. “That room up there,” Steve continued, licking his dry lips, “My room. It looks so…sad. Like it’s not my home. Like it’s not anyone’s home. I don’t live there…not really.” He gulped, looking back down at his tea. “I don’t think I want to go back.”

“Then don’t,” Bucky answered and it sounded so easy, “You can do whatever you want.”

“What about you?” Steve asked and when Bucky didn’t answer he raised his head to look at him. Bucky looked back at him, his eyes soft, and a shy smile on his lips – no, not shy…sad but hopeful.

“I’ll go wherever you go, if you let me.”

_Of course, I’ll let you_ , Steve thought, _what kinda stupid question is that?_

“Thank you,” he said and maybe he imagined it but Bucky’s smile seemed to be a little bit brighter after that, “He loved you, y’know,” Steve muttered, “He loved you a lot.”

“I know,” Bucky answered, “I think I might have loved him back.”

_I think I might love you now_ , Steve thought, _or at least I will very soon_.

“You broke my programming,” Bucky went on, a deep crease between his eyes like he always had when he recalled some memory, “Captain America. You called me Bucky and said I was your friend and I…I knew you. I didn’t remember how or why but I _knew_ you. I watched you, afterwards. Protected you. Then this happened and I couldn’t hide any longer…I couldn’t…I had to…” Bucky took a deep, shaky breath, “You make me feel human,” he finished eventually.

“You are human.”

There it was again…that smile. “I am now.”

It was weird, really, how such a simple expression, just a tiny twitch of muscles, could make Steve’s heart flutter and soar, how it could make him smile in response, because it didn’t matter whether or not Steve got to be Captain America again, whether or not he ever remembered who he used to be…because Bucky would be there and for now, that was all Steve really cared about.

Bucky ended up ignoring the eggs that were still in the pan, now cold and soggy, and instead made pancakes for himself and Steve. There was a normalcy to it all, a domesticity that made Steve’s very soul ache with want.

They ate and then they cleaned the dishes and then they went back to Captain America’s floor where Steve drew and Bucky read and sometimes, they talked but mostly they just stayed like that, in companionate silence.


	8. Chapter 8

Tony felt immensely awkward when he left the two men behind in the kitchen. It wasn’t even Barnes’ suspicion, or Barnes’ murder glares, or Barnes’ protectiveness, or Barnes’ – actually, it just wasn’t Barnes. No, it was Steve. Steve who called him ‘Stark’ as if they hadn’t fought Aliens together, Steve who didn’t as much as roll his eyes at Tony’s word-vomit, Steve who looked at Barnes fondly as the (ex-)assassin made Tony drink Bruce’s disgusting ginger-lemon tea, Steve – simply Steve. Because, and Tony loathed to admit this, it hurt that Steve didn’t know him, didn’t remember him, because they had been getting somewhere when that fucking wizard had showed up and now, they where nowhere and everything was ten times more complicated.

“Fuck.”

Abandoning any pretence of working, Tony leaned back in his chair and his eyes fell on the little trophy Pepper had given him all those years ago.

_Proof that Tony Stark has a heart._

“Fuck.”  
He really wished Pepper was with him now and could tell him what to do, but she wasn’t and she couldn’t and that meant Tony would have to be a responsible adult here even though adulting was really fucking hard.

“Fuck.”

His mind went back to the previous night and the image of Steve and Barnes, curled up together on a couple of pillows and blankets on the kitchen floor, to Barnes stepping in front of Steve and Steve all but melting into a puddle of goo and _Jesus Christ on a cracker…_

“Fuck it.”

Swearing under his breath, Tony stood up and hurried out of his workshop before he could change his mind, stepping into the elevator and telling FRIDAY to please bring him up to Cap’s floor.

“Of course, sir,” the AI answered.

“What are they doing, FRI?”

“Mr. Rogers is currently drawing and Mr. Barnes is reading a book.”

_Huh_ …it all sounded so…normal… _I didn’t even know Steve could draw._

When the doors opened and Tony entered the apartment he was, indeed, met by a strangely domestic scene, with Steve and Barnes sprawled out on the couch, Steve’s feet on Barnes’ lap, and both engrossed in whatever they were doing. And while Steve seemed completely focused on his sketch book, Barnes tensed up the second Tony gad come out of the elevator even though he didn’t look up from the book.

“So…” _God why is this so awkward?_ “This looks cosy…” cringing at himself, Tony took a step forward and looked around. The apartment looked exactly like it had after he had designed it.

_Huh…_

He would have expected Steve to at least change a few things…like take down the flag Tony had hung up as a joke…or decorate the place so it looked less like a bad hotel room and more like…you know? Home.

Steve had finally lowered his sketchbook and raised his head to look at Tony, a slight frown on his face.

“Stark,” he said, his voice tentative, careful even, and Tony had to fight hard against the painful tuck on his heart.

“So…” he tried again, fully aware that now both men were expectantly looking at him. Waiting. “Mind if I join in?”

Two blue pairs of eyes blinked at him.

Tony waited, his heart beating a fast rhythm against his ribs.

Slowly, Barnes and Steve turned their heads to look at each other, exchange a shrug, and turn back towards Tony who let out a breath and walked over to the armchair to sit down.

_Well_ , he thought, _here goes nothing…_

* * *

 

Finding Doctor Strange hadn’t been easy, compared to convincing him to come to the Tower with them and helping them, however, it had been child’s play. Not that Sam had been there for the last part. He had fully trusted Natasha’s abilities and waited in the Quinjet while she and Clint had gone inside to talk to the wizard or whatever he was…Sam wasn’t completely sure about that. On the plus side, the hour or so he’d spent waiting had given him plenty of time to think…think about this whole mess they’d gotten themselves into, think about Barnes suddenly showing up and playing overprotective mama bear, think about the way Barnes and Steve orbited around each other even now without a single memory, think about Steve…Steve who Sam had never seen quite so happy in all the time he’d known him, Steve who had spent months and months looking for Barnes, Steve who was now truly and solely _Steve_ and not Captain America.

 

_“Barnes has a lot of memories connected to this Steve. More than to Captain America.”_

_“You say that as if their two separate people.”_

_“I’m beginning to think they are.”_

 

_“My name is Steve. Or so I’ve been told. Why don’t you call me by my name? No offence, but it’s wrong to reduce people to their titles. It takes away their personality, their humanity, it turns them into objects rather than people.”_

 

_Maybe we’re making a mistake_ , Sam mused, _maybe we should have asked Steve what he wants before forcing him to do something he doesn’t want to do_ …because, really, how did this make them better than HYDRA? Better that S.H.I.E.L.D.? Better than the fucking government?

_Steve is our friend. It shouldn’t matter what size he is._

“Wilson!”

Sam jumped at the loud voice in his ear.

“Sorry, what?”

“Get ready for takeoff,” Natasha said.

“You got Strange?”

“Yes.”

_Maybe we’re making a mistake_ , Sam thought again as he prepared the Quinjet.

* * *

 

“- told me stories about the two of you…Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes…greatest men I’ve ever known, he’d say, before downing another drink. He adored you. I fucking hated it –“

* * *

 

“Are you going to tell me which of your teammates has been compromised, as you so eloquently put it?”

“No.”

“I will know soon anyway.”

“And until then it doesn’t matter.”

* * *

“-guess what I’m trying to do here is apologize. We got off on the wrong foot, not that you actually remember, but you will. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully. And when you do this is gonna be really embarrassing for me but, what _really_ trying to say is…maybe we could start over?”


	9. Chapter 9

“…maybe we could start over?” Stark asked, seeming uncharacteristically nervous and Bucky…Bucky felt uncharacteristically sorry for him…but this was not his decision to make. It was Steve’s.

Speaking of Steve. The blond hadn’t said a thing since Stark had started talking and was now still staring at the older man with an unreadable expression. It was clear that he was considering both the man and his words, trying to catch him in a lie except Stark didn’t seem to be lying, in fact, he seemed to be anxiously anticipating Steve’s answer, clearly fearing a rejection. Then, Steve abruptly stood up from the couch and walked over to the armchair, extending his hand. Stark blinked several times before accepting it.

“Hello, my name is Steve Rogers. Nice to meet ya.”

“Tony Stark,” the billionaire replied perplexed.

“Thank you for letting us stay here.”

“Don’t mention it.” Stark still seemed slightly confused but he was much more relaxed now that Steve was openly talking to him. “I’m glad to help,” he added and then, as if an afterthought he looked straight at Bucky, “Both of you.”

Bucky tipped his head in response, holding Stark’s gaze and not knowing what exactly he should say to that. This was unfamiliar territory. Bucky could handle talking to Steve, being around him and feeling like a person, but with anyone else…? That was something new and potentially dangerous.

“This is Bucky,” Steve spoke up, and walked back to the couch to sit down next to Bucky, “He’s my friend.”

Stark nodded, his lips pulling into a smile and Bucky found himself relaxing.

* * *

 

Steve had been more than a little surprised when Stark had showed up to talk to them, to apologize, to ask for a second chance.

Steve had been more than a little surprised but he had also been pleased and more then willing to play along – _maybe he’s not so bad after all…_

So, they talked.

They talked about Stark’s latest projects and Steve’s art, they talked about the book Bucky was reading and his metal arm. They talked about Pepper Potts, and they talked about the other Avengers.

They did not, not even once, talk about their past.

Suddenly, the door to the apartment opened and five people walked in, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, and a man Steve hadn’t met yet, and all five stopped short when they saw the scene in front of them with Bucky and Steve sitting on the couch, talking to Stark, relaxed and open.

“- figure out the retro-reflective panels and the radar-cloaking, I can make the suit practically invisible and – oh, hey guys,” Stark interrupted himself when he noticed the newcomers, “And you must be Dumbledore.”

The tall men in the cloak frowned, “I’m doctor Stephen Strange,” he said.

Stark waved him off, “Semantics,” he muttered and stood up, “Tony Stark.”

“I know who you are,” doctor Stephen Strange replied.

“Oh, well then, let’s get down to business.” He clapped his hands together and smiled broadly, “See, we’ve got ourselves in a bit of a situation as you can see. Steve over there had a serious case of shrinking and memory loss. We’re hoping you can help him.”

Strange’s eyes travelled from Stark to Steve, his gaze intense and kind of unsettling. “I see,” he said and stepped closer, next to him, Steve felt Bucky tense and sit up straighter. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Steve shook his head.

“We were fighting some kind of wizard,” Sam Wilson began to explain, “We don’t know where he’s from but he hit Steve with something and now his memories are gone. So’s the Serum in his blood that made him into a Super-Soldier.”

“What happened to the wizard?”

“He left. We can’t find him.”

Strange nodded, his eyes never leaving Steve. “I can try to track his magic,” he explained, “I can even try to retrieve the memories but as to the Serum…I cannot bring you back to your Captain America body.”

The doctor’s words were met with silence. A grave, heavy silence. Steve could feel everyone’s eyes on him, waiting for his reaction, but Steve…Steve had no reaction.

“Are you sure?” Barton asked.

“Yes.”

They were still looking at him, looking at Steve, clearly expecting him to – _what? Be sad? Angry? Do they expect me to miss it?_

_How do I miss something I don’t remember?_

* * *

 

Bucky observed Steve closely after getting the news and…well…Steve was fine. The same could not be said about Captain America’s friends.

“Are you sure?” Hawkeye – Clint Barton – asked, sounding desperate and upset.

“Yes,” doctor Strange answered without taking his eyes off Steve who held the man’s gaze. “If the Serum is removed from your blood, I cannot retrieve it.” Which made sense, really.

“But you could bring back his memories?” the Widow asked, her voice low and dangerous.

“I can certainly try.”

Next to her, Wilson shifted uncomfortably as he chewed on his lower lip and let his eyes jump from the Widow to doctor Strange to Steve and back to the Widow again. Bucky watched as he opened his mouth several times as if to say…something, but eventually decided against speaking up and instead took a step back.

It was Tony who did say something. “How about we ask Steve over there what he thinks of all this?”

Everyone in the room looked at the billionaire in surprise who, in turn, just smiled and shrugged.

“Thank you, Stark,” Steve said.

“Tony,” the older man corrected him.

“Tony.” There was a small smile on Sta – _Tony’s_ – face as he heard Steve say his name, a tiny twitch of his lips but visible all the same. Steve stood up from the couch, his spine straight and his chin raised as he stepped forward. “I know you’re all just trying to help, I know you think you’re doing what’s best for me, I know you know things that I don’t – but fact is, that I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions and you shouldn’t try to force me into doing something I don’t want to do.”

“Steve,” Wilson quickly jumped in, “Man. We’re not gonna force you to do anything –”

“You don’t have all the information,” the Black Widow cut in, “You can’t make a decision without understanding what’s at stake. Steve. You are Captain America and we need you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Steve said softly, “I might be Captain America, but Captain America is not me.” Bucky’s breath hitched slightly at the sound of the familiar words. “And I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do.”

Clint stepped forward, his eyes wide, “Steve, you don’t know what you’re saying. Cap wouldn’t want this, he’d want you to continue and if you had your memories, you would too.” The small blond huffed, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, and Bucky, too, stood up quickly to stand at his friend’s side, laying a gentle hand on the small of Steve’s back. “I know exactly what I’m saying,” Steve argued, his voice tight and forceful, “And I understand. I understand that you only see Captain America, when Captain America was only ever a mask. An act. Anyone could do it. Anyone could be him. And I don’t need my memories to know that I was pretty miserable before. Just look around! Does this look like someone’s home? Does this look like a place where anyone feels comfortable? No, it doesn’t. And if this is supposed to be my life, then I don’t want it. I’m not saying I won’t help you because I will, however I can, I’m saying that I am not going to be Captain America again and that I like the person I am right now and you better accept that.”

Despite the tension in Steve’s body, he leaned into Bucky’s touch, breathing heavily so that Bucky was actually getting concerned about the blond’s asthma.

“Why don’t we all take some time to calm down?” the youngest of the group spoke up. Scarlet Witch hadn’t said anything the whole time and Bucky had almost forgotten that she was even there, but only almost, and now that she had reminded the rest of her presence, they all turned around to look at her. “It is useless to fight over a decision that is Steve’s, but we should give him the time and space to actually make the decision.”

“Wanda’s right,” Wilson agreed, “Let’s give the man some space.”

* * *

 

Steve was still firmly planted to the ground even after everyone had left and it was just him and Bucky again. His breath was a bit calmer now and his ears were no longer ringing but the anger he had felt earlier was still there, deep inside…waiting.

“Steve?” Bucky’s vice was soft and quiet, his hand still touching Steve ever so gently.

“I’m okay,” Steve answered the unasked question, “I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to decide right now.”

“Don’t I?” he questioned, “They brought Strange here and they’re expecting me to do it.” He sighed and stepped back, immediately missing Bucky’s touch and warmth but forced himself to walk back to the couch and sit down. “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed in a whisper.

Bucky, too, walked to the couch but instead of sitting next to Steve, he crouched down on the floor in front of him, taking Steve’s hands in his. One metal and one flesh.

“I can’t tell you what to do.”

“I wouldn’t want you to.” _No…that’s not what this was about_. “How much do you remember?”

Bucky blinked, “About you?”

“About everything.”

For a second, Steve was sure Bucky would not tell him anything, his steely eyes fixed on where his hands where holding Steve’s, an absentminded thumb rubbing steady circles into Steve’s pale skin, but then, “I don’t remember much,” Bucky muttered, “I know that I know you. There’s…something. Trust. Concern. Love.” He looked up, meeting Steve’s gaze and the openness in Bucky’s eyes made Steve’s heart and his breath hitch. “I remember falling. Pain. Fear. Anger. They took my arm. They…they beat me. They made me forget. Then they made me kill people. There was so much blood. I remember seeing you on that bridge and then later on the Helicarrier and _I knew you_.”

Steve gulped, slowly nodding his head. “What Barton said,” he began, “That he – that Captain America – would want me to get the memories back…”

“He’s you,” Bucky said after Steve had trailed off, “You’re him. It doesn’t matter what you might have wanted in the past. You’re allowed to change your mind.” Bucky frowned lightly, shaking his head. “You’re allowed to change,” he finished, sounding so certain and confident that Steve couldn’t help but feel it too, couldn’t help but belief Bucky and his words.

Steve nodded and pushed himself up to his feet, extending his hand and Bucky took it without hesitation, squeezing it slightly as they walked towards the elevator.

He’d made his decision.


	10. Chapter 10

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Natasha asked.

Steve met her gaze, head on and unblinking, “Yes.”

It sounded final and Sam knew Steve well enough to know that it was. Steve would never be Captain America again. Steve would not get his memories back.

Natasha nodded slowly, her face unreadable. “Okay,” she said, and that was apparently it.

Sam looked around, Steve and Barnes stood in front of them, hands entwined and faces serious. He and the rest of the Avengers were scattered across the living room on the common floor, Tony occupying one of the huge sofas all by himself, Clint and Natasha standing shoulder to shoulder with their arms crossed, while he and Wanda sat on the other sofa, and Strange stood in front of the window, back turned to the room and seemingly not even paying attention to what was happening around him.

“Perfect!” Everyone winced as Tony jumped up, grinning widely. “Now that that’s over, I’ve got a suit to finish.”

They all watched as the billionaire hurried out of the room and towards the elevator and the spell that had kept everyone quiet and immobile was broken.

“I’m happy for you, Steve,” Wanda said and the sheer honesty in her voice made Sam’s heart swell. She was a sweet girl and it was obvious that she really was happy for Steve.

“Thank you, Wanda.”

“What will you do now?”

Steve and Bucky exchanged a look. “Whatever we want.”

* * *

 

Tony took a deep breath. He wasn’t surprised by Steve’s choice, not at all, in fact, he had anticipated it, hoped for it even. Steve, the Steve he had gotten to know the past two days…he was different. Not the stoic, righteous, uptight, and incredibly infuriating asshole he had worked with, but a passionate, fiery, stubborn, little shit who had his heart in the right place. This Steve was so full of life in a way he had never been before, and Tony couldn’t help but admire that a bit.

_Maybe this is the Steve dad knew_ , he thought, _maybe this is why he loved him so much…god knows I do_.

And then there was Barnes – Bucky – who suddenly wasn’t nearly as intimidating as he had been after Tony had seen him cuddle with Steve like some oversized, grumpy cat. A deadly cat, but a cat nonetheless. Tony liked cats. Tony could come to like Bucky as well, he was sure.

Now, the question was…how would they carry on? They were down one member and as much as Tony didn’t begrudge Steve his well-earned peace and happiness, Natasha was right: they needed Steve and they needed Captain America. Sure, they didn’t necessarily have to be the same person but…well…who knew what Steve was going to do now. And who the hell as going to pick up the shield?

_Certainly not me, that’s for sure…_

Sam, maybe? But then, Sam had made it clear that he was only in it for Steve and if Steve was out then… _shit_ …

“FRIDAY, honey, do me a favour and do everything in your power to find Bruce and Thor.”

“Of course, sir.”

* * *

 

“Am I being selfish?”

They were sitting outside on the roof. Him and Steve. Barnes was on Steve’s floor and the rest of the team had vanished someplace or other and then Steve had come up here and Sam had followed.

“Why do you think that?” Sam asked even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“I sided against Captain America. Against the team. I know you’re disappointed in me.”

“I’m not.” He truly wasn’t. “Surprised, yes, but not disappointed. In fact…I might be a little proud.”

Steve snorted out a laugh, side-glancing at Sam “Why?”

“You don’t remember, but you really were miserable,” Sam answered, “You did a good job hiding it but you also ain’t the first soldier I seen come back from war…it changes you. I think at some point you stopped being Steve Rogers and only were Captain America…”

“But…?”

“But Bucky.” And really, it was that simple, Sam realised. “The second you realised he was alive…it was like you’d become a whole different person. I could see you change right in front of my eyes. The only thing you wanted was to find him, bring him home, protect him…I think you woulda dropped that shield in a heart beat if it had meant getting him back.”

Sam looked at Steve, seeing the smile in his face, and he knew he was right. Steve might not remember but he was still the same person.

“I love him,” he simply said.

“I know,” Sam replied, because he did.

“I still worry that I let you down,” Steve continues, “Not you personally, maybe, but the others. You were trying to help. I appreciate that. And you just accepted my decision and that means the world to me and it shows me that you really are my friends.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Sam said, turning his head back to look over the city in front of them, “They’ll be okay.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, hearing nothing but the wind the cars down below. The sun was slowly sinking, dowsing the world in warm shadows.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question is that?”

“Am I being selfish?”

Sam smiled. He wasn’t even sure why, except that that question was prove that Steve was still Steve.

“Does it matter?” he countered, “You’ve been selfless for so long, always helping, always putting others first, making yourself miserable in the process…you deserve to be happy, Steve. Anyone does. And usually, being happy means also being a little bit selfish. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

He gave Steve a moment to really take in his words before looking at him once more.

“Thank you, Sam.”

“What for?”

“Being my friend.”


	11. Chapter 11

He watched through the screen in front of him as Captain America charged through the creatures, kicking and punching, his shield flying through the air. It was beautiful to watch. Powerful. Graceful.

“You’ve got incoming, Cap,” he informed the soldier and Captain America – Bucky Barnes – swivelled around to punch the alien with his metal arm, knocking it out right before his feet.

“Thanks, Stevie.”

They were a good team. The Captain and Steve.

Trust. Loyalty. Adoration…

Love.

They protected each other, no matter what.

Six months now since Steve had been hit by the magic that had rendered the Serum ineffective, since he had shrunk down to five foot nothing and ninety pounds soaking wet, since Bucky had taken up the shield and become Captain America.

“Iron Man and Falcon, make sure to secure the east side of the parameter, there’s some of them getting close to the subway station.”

“You got it, Rogers.”

“Copy that.”

Steve watched as both men flew east. Thanks to Stark, he could sit in the Tower or the Quinjet and observe all the action, giving commands and suggestions to the Avengers, without being in danger – that last part in particular had been important to Bucky who never stopped worrying about Steve.

He took a step back to take in all the screens.

Natasha and Wanda were something of a dream team and probably more efficient than all the others put together. Sam and Tony had cleared the streets surrounding the subway station, keeping the civilians down there safe. Clint was jumping from one rooftop to another, shooting Aliens left and right. Thor was there, as well as the Hulk, both smashing their ways through the enemies. But, as always, Steve attention was drawn to Bucky. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the others to keep him safe – quite the opposite actually – but he always felt better when he kept a close eye on the other man himself.

Bucky had fought his way through most of the aliens towards their ship that had all but crashed in the middle of Time Square. Steve watched as Bucky approached the ship all by himself, the shield in one hand and a gun in the other, getting closer and closer and closer and –

“Buck, what are you doing? Wait for backup!”

“It’s fine, Steve,” Bucky argued from inside the ship, except –

“Bucky that thing is about to collapse. Get. Out. Now!” Steve yelled frantically, eyes glued to the screen, waiting for Bucky to come back outside but he wasn’t, and the constant explosions all around the ship only made it more instable and –

“Shit!”

Steve froze. Something inside the ship must have exploded because there was fire, and metal flying through the air and Steve watched as the whole thing slowly tipped towards the ground.

“Bucky! Buck! Answer me Bucky! Fuck! I need someone at the ship! Repeat, I need someone at the ship!”

“On my way,” Sam immediately responded but Sam was blocks away from where the ships had landed and Steve couldn’t wait that long, Bucky couldn’t wait that long, so he did that only thing he could do. He ran.

* * *

 

Bucky groaned. His ears were ringing and his whole body hurt, there was something heavy on his chest…the shield.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered and slowly began to wriggle out of the remains of the ship that had nearly buried him alive. It had all happened so fast, there hadn’t been enough time to react and before he knew it something had exploded in his face and thrown him through the air. He was fine though. His ribs were probably fractured, there were a few cuts and gashes on his face, legs, and arms but apart from that, he was fine.

Breathing carefully, Bucky looked around to estimate the amount of damage and…well…the place looked like shit.

“Fucking hell.”

He staggered forward, keeping his eyes open for potential threats but it seemed like the explosion had taken out the last of the aliens. _Good_ , he thought, feeling relief wash over him.

“Bucky?!”

Bucky turned around, squinting. The air was filled with dust but he could still make out the small figure of someone walking around, shouting his name.

“Bucky?!”

_Stevie?_

“Bucky?!”

And, indeed, it was none other than Steve Rogers who wandered through the destroyed city without any kind of protection, looking frantic and scared.

“The hell are you doing here?” Bucky called out and Steve turned quickly, his eyes wide as he hurried towards him and all but flung himself at Bucky who quickly enclosed his arms around Steve’s frail body.

“You bastard,” Steve choked out, “You fucking bastard. I thought you were dead.”

Bucky tightened his grip and drew Steve impossibly closer, burying his nose in that golden hair and breathing him in. “I’m not dead,” he muttered, “I’m right here. I’m okay.” And dear god, Steve was shivering in his arms. “I’m okay.”

“I called for you. You didn’t answer,” Steve told him after he had pulled back just enough so we wouldn’t speak into Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s heart sank and he reached up with one hand to touch his ear, only to find it empty.

“My comm must fallen out in the explosion,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you ever do that again.”

“I won’t,” Bucky whispered and pulled Steve back into the hug. He needed to…he needed to touch him, to hold him, to make sure that they were both alright. “I won’t”

“Let’s go home.”

* * *

 

Home was a small apartment in Brooklyn where they lived with their cats Nala and Simba. It was private, it was safe, it was perfect.

As soon as they got back, Bucky’s arm still slung around Steve’s shoulders, Steve all but dragged Bucky to the bathroom where he slowly took his clothes off, watchful eyes scanning for injuries. Bucky’s chest was covered in bruises, his face and arms and legs in wounds that were already beginning to heal but nonetheless made Steve’s very soul hurt. They showered together, each washing the other’s hair and body; there was nothing sexual about it, just deep concern and affection. They took care of each other.

“I love you,” Steve said as they stood under the running hot water, holding each other, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Stevie.”

They didn't need memories to remember each other, didn't need a big, fancy tower or expensive furniture...this right here, with the two of them together was enough.

Steve made sure to dry Bucky before leading him to the bedroom, the two cats already waiting for them, and together they all curled up under the covers and Steve held Bucky, tracing gentle patterns on his blue and purple chest with his slim fingers until Bucky's breath evend out.

_I'm so glad you're here_ , he thought and closed his own eyes to fall asleep.


End file.
